i forgot the softness of the rain
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: James woke to the smell of his wife's lavender scented shampoo, but not his wife; her side of the bed had been abandoned, the covers pulled back, and not even her shape from hours of sleep remained behind. He lifted his head, searching for the sound of the shower running, or perhaps the happy laughter of his son in the nursery, but there was nothing but silence to be heard...


_**Written for the 'Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition' Round 12: OTPs, written in place of Puddlemere United's Beater 2. (Written by Chaser 2.) This is Beater 2's OTP: James/Lily. Using: **_Write about your OTP forgetting something important.

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 768, infinite. **_

_**Written for the 'Ten times Ten Challenge' by she who is made of stars, using Institution: Death Eaters. **_

_**Written for the 'Flower Language Challenge' by Sweet Bitter Life, using **_**Orchid: Symbolizes exotic beauty. **Write about Bellatrix Lestrange.

….

James woke to the smell of his wife's lavender scented shampoo, but not his wife; her side of the bed had been abandoned, the covers pulled back, and not even her shape from hours of sleep remained behind.

He lifted his head, searching for the sound of the shower running, or perhaps the happy laughter of his son in the nursery, but there was nothing but silence to be heard, and this was what worried James most of all.

All of his instincts screamed that _something was not right here_, and James' fingers scrambled for his wand and his glasses. He did not call out Lily's name.

James crept from the bed, padding softly in socked feet to the doorway, his wand held aloft, his eyes wide as he made his way across the carpet; he was alert and completely awake, all momentary grogginess forgotten with the realisation that something had happened to his wife.

Lily-his heart pounded to the sound of her very name, screaming out over and over, Lilian Elizabeth Potter, Lilian Elizabeth Potter. If something had happened to her…but he mustn't think like that; besides, if someone had come for his wife and son, they would not have left James behind, alive.

"_James? Where are you going?"_ someone seemed to call out, but, spinning around, he saw no one, just pictures of his happy family, grinning out at him, celebrating some day he could not clearly recall.

Strange-entire parts of his memory appeared to be missing, as if someone had removed them….as if he had been repressing something or forgetting something, both of which made James want to laugh. He was being paranoid, and Lily was probably just playing with the baby out in the garden.

James continued searching, occasionally opening a door here or there, but he found no sign of Lily, nor their little baby boy. In fact, the more he looked, the more terrified he got. Once, he opened what he thought was the back door, only to find that it merely led to yet _another _closet full of packed up boxes.

"_James? James, come back_." That voice called again, and he wanted to scream with frustration. Where was his wife? Where was his son-what had happened to his house? He didn't remember all these rooms, he had never seen these pictures before.

James tripped over an abandoned doll, a little cloth doll with a faded face that smiled up at him blandly. It had button eyes and a string mouth and it stared at nothing. James nearly screamed, tossing it away from him; he had never seen that doll before in his life, he did not remember that doll.

This was not his house-_this was not his house! Where was he? Where the fuck was he-where was his wife and his son, where was his house? _

"_James! NO, come BACK!" _Something crashed to the ground, the sound of glass breaking interrupting the inhuman wails that had been coming from James. (He hadn't even noticed he was screaming.)

His eyes widened, and he spun around, nearly stepping on a fallen photo, its glass covering cracked down the whole photo. It was one from his last birthday, just Lily and him, holding each other's hand as they grinned widely for the camera. Behind them was a banner that read _Happy 21__st__._

_Except James wasn't twenty-one. He was twenty-eight, and he hadn't celebrated his twenty-first birthday at home with Lily. It had been spent fighting in the cold, his friends dying all around him, Death Eaters screaming wildly as they overtook Order members. _

He had forgotten, he had forgotten, oh Godric, how had he forgotten something so important? He had forgotten, he hadn't remembered, hadn't _wanted _to remember..._any of it_.

_The screaming...crying, the yelling, people calling out for James, someone behind him begging for death, begging that it all end quickly. James, too, wished the same, but he fought on, knowing that giving up now was no longer an option-he did not have that choice, not with Lily at home, pregnant, waiting for him. _

_They were going to name their son Harry; he was due in late July, or possibly August. _

_It was the thought of her-and the baby boy they were going to have-that kept him running, wand aloft, yelling _Victory _wherever he went, because the Death Eaters would not win. _

Could not win.

_His wand was raised high in the air, spells firing faster than James had thought he could even cast; there seemed to be no end as enemies fell and did not get back up, as friends collapsed around him. _

_All around him, death was imminent, an infinitely going thing that never ended, though it never quite seemed to be able to catch up with him. He fired spell after spell, taking down Death Eaters like they were rag dolls, puppets whose strings had been cut. _

_It was a beautiful thing to see, James in his element, wand in hand, a spell always ready, an enemy always nearby. It was a beautiful thing, this graceful dance of his, and he bellowed out for all to hear that _he, James Potter, _was immortal, invincible-infinite and untouchable. _

_James danced and danced, and no spell seemed to be able to touch him. James laughed, bending over as a bright yellow light flashed over his head, ruffling his hair with a rush of air. _

_There was nothing his enemies could do, no spell they could fire to stop him. He was James Potter, and he was immortal like no man had ever been. They could not kill him, and he could not be hurt. Did they not understand that this was not a man they fought against, but a god? _

"_James!" a voice cried out behind him, emerging from the smoke and dust as if like an angel stepping from behind her cover; it was Lily, five months along but still small around the belly. She smiled at James, her own wand clutched in her shaking hands. _

_She did not run to him, but James' legs were long enough for the both of them. He had swept Lily off her feet within seconds, running frantic hands down her body to check for any wounds._

"_Why are you here, Lily?" he demanded rather harshly, as lights flashed around them; James, not waiting for a response, gripped his wife's wrist, pulling her along behind him, ducking past a wall of a crumbling building, trying to ignore the screams of anguish, which could not be easily distinguished between friend and foes. _

_He was terrified of losing her and the baby, terrified of the thought of burying his pretty young bride-but he was also happy, because the love of his life was here, that gleam of excitement in her eyes. _

"_I had to come-I had to help…people…Marley owled me, she said people were dying all over, that we needed everyone, and I offered to come help. You can't send me back home like a petulant child, James, I have just as much right to be here."_

_He nodded, because, of course, she was right, and he was being stupid; but he loved her, and James didn't want to lose Lily, not on the battlefield, not ever. And, of course, it was when he wasn't paying attention that they were found._

_Death Eaters, grinning, he knew, though he could not see beneath their masks. One of them crowed loudly, ripping her mask off, revealing madly curling black hair, her lips twisting cruelly as she stalked to them. Bellatrix Lestrange-a mad, mad woman who would stop for nothing and no one except her Lord and Master, Voldemort himself._

"_Hello, Potter," she cooed, blinking her large eyes at him. "Hello, filthy scum," she directed at Lily, her nose wrinkling as if she smelled something bad. Bellatrix's eyes fell on Lily's stomach, which was just beginning to jut out noticeably, and she crowed again. "Oh, the filthy Mudblood bitch is with child, is she?"_

_Lily shook her head, but they, neither she nor James, could move from their spot; paralyzed with fear, yes, but Bellatrix held them still with a spell, her wand held aloft as she pursed her lips at the young couple. She was a mad lark, the mad queen of the Death Eaters, and James feared her almost more than he feared the Dark Lord. _

"_You stupid bitch, how dare you bring such disgusting, accursed nastiness into this world to steal the magic of hard-working witches and wizards of noble blood."_

"_I…I never…"_

"_She never, did you hear?" Bellatrix cried, laughing as she turned to her companions, who chuckled darkly. "You never, is that what you say to me, as I hold your life in my very hands? You may never, Madame Mudblood, but I _do_, and I do so happily."_

_James had never hated the colour green more, as his wife fell, her eyes widening in shock as the Death Eaters laughed madly. James' world was over, he screamed endlessly, infinitely, wanting to run but unable to move from where he stood as Bellatrix cackled and his wife died. _

_He howled inhumanly, wanting to rip the very memory from his mind, and the scene before him grew blurry._

He opened his eyes once more and he was back home, but something was different now. The building seemed darker and lonely, traces of a girl that had died and a boy who had never lived still haunting him. This was his house, but it was not his house.

Something was still not right here.

Of course, he had forgotten entirely. James blinked and the world shifted around him, fading and warping. He wasn't in the house that he'd bought with Lily all those years ago; he wasn't in the middle of a war, clutching his wife's broken body, begging for her to wake up.

He'd forgotten about the months after the funeral, the empty bottles that seemed to clutter his life, stinking of an end that James was still, even now, not willing to face. It had been, it still was…easier to build a fantasy land for himself to live in, rather than face the outside, wasn't it?

"Mr. Potter?" called a voice behind him, and he turned to face a concerned woman in dark blue robes with a little gold badge that read _Healer Podge; _she had her had stretched out to touch his shoulder, but he shifted away, leaving it hanging in space, and they both stared at her dark skin for a moment.

The _Healer Podge _sighed, waving at him to follow, and James smiled to himself, a queer smile. He did not move from his spot in the hallway, only blinked as his brain clicked with forgotten details.

"Come on, Mr. Potter, it's time to take your potions. Follow me now, dear, let's get you back inside for your potions. Come on, it's okay."

James nearly laughed, but just merely thinking about such a thing made the bubbling amusement die in his throat; he had forgotten, but now things were becoming clearer to him.

He remembered now, remembered with scary precision, following the _Healer Podge _from the blank, empty hallway back towards the room she had come from. His lip curled upwards-now he knew where he was, finally.

James lightly tapped the plaque next to his room (memory told him that this was not the first time he had done so) and began to giggle madly. He remembered _her_-with the wand and her vicious smile, and also that spell that was so readily on her lips.

He remembered _her_, Bellatrix Lestrange, who crawled in through his window like a snake, and cooed at him, a helpless, uncaring fool who did not move from his spot on the floor. James had not fought back as she taunted him, explaining what she had done to his friends, what she was going to do to him. He had no longer cared, long before even the first _Crucio _was cast.

He had blocked such things from his mind, had forgotten all about it, because the truth hurt too much, but he remembered very clearly now. He knew the truth, and he knew where he was. James knew what was going on-he remembered now.

He remembered the Janus Thickey Ward very clearly.


End file.
